


Under the Storm

by plastiscguy



Category: Pretty Little Liars, Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-30
Updated: 2018-02-07
Packaged: 2019-03-11 14:50:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,159
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13526556
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/plastiscguy/pseuds/plastiscguy
Summary: Mike Montgomery never had any concern in his life other than running away from problems. However, everything is about to change when Mike has to take his lookalike's identity after he died.Can Mike carry out his work? What could happen if he fell in love with the main suspect of the crime?Certainly, Paradise Hills is far from being a paradise.





	1. Prologue

The moonlight shone down the long, creepy path of the Graysville forest. Mike Montgomery ran without looking back, holding his chest with one hand, gasping for breath, concentrating on not tripping over any branches or stones. His clothes were dirtier than usual, and the marks of bruises and the drops of blood contrasted with his facial features.

After minutes of running without any destination, his feet stopped in front of the great waterfall that divided the border of the town. He had no escape and, still hearing the trots behind him, he knew he should hurry to look for a way out. But knowing there was no escape, he knew the only thing he could do now was to jump.

He had never been one of those who fled, but if he survived the fall, at least he would have a chance to fight back, on the other hand, if he didn’t survive, the fate he had before wouldn’t have been very different to death.

 

So he humped. And after he fell, he could have sworn to lose consciousness. While the impact hadn’t been strong enough to render him unconscious, it had been strong enough to leave him immobilized.

The cold contact of the water flooding his lungs made any movement impossible. His eyes remained open, seeing how the moonlight was getting smaller as his body sank into the depths. His chest contracted due to the little oxygen in his lungs and after long seconds, his body straightened up. And he swam.

He swam to the surface with all his strength, being dragged by the water stream. His body hitting against the rocks made his way to the surface difficult, but at the desperation of drowned, for Mike that didn’t matter and finally, he swam to the shore. Coughing uncontrollably when he took a breath.

 

His eyes were crystalline and his whole body burned with pain. Looking at the upper end of the waterfall and not seeing anyone, he wondered if this was good or bad. Maybe dying, after all, wouldn’t have been such a bad idea. His aching body slowly crawled until he reached the cold lawn where he would rest for long minutes. At least until his breathing was more stabilized and the unbearable pain was painful enough to force him to stand up. His gaze was focused on the great moon, seeing that not even the largest clouds had the courage to even try to eclipse it.

A small smile escaped his lips as he realized that after all that had happened, he was still alive. It was inevitable to feel proud of himself. _"He who fights and runs away lives to fight another day_." He suddenly remembered what his mother told him before she died.

 

Slowly he stood up, emitting moans of pain. He felt that every corner of his body begged for mercy and upon seeing the large wounds deep in his abdomen, he understood that he would need to heal them before they became infected. But where would he go? He couldn’t go back to Graysville, and he didn’t have anywhere else to go either. And even if all his life he had learned to just depend on his wisdom, the feeling of not knowing what to do suddenly was scary.

 

His feet crawled for hours, without any direction. The hope of finding a place to get safe disappeared after every second that passed. His throat burned and not feeling any pain in his wounds began to worry him. The sunlight shining directly on his face was an obstacle to his sight. He felt he was about to faint when he saw it then. As if it were an illusion, the path of the forest came to an end and hope suddenly reappeared as soon as his feet touched the road.

A sigh of relief escaped his lips. He just had to follow the road, but then his steps began to get slower and slower. His eyes closed inevitably, and upon hearing a van parking right behind him his brain went out as everything went black.


	2. I

His body was completely paralyzed. His eyes struggled to open as he slowly began to regain consciousness and his ears picked up slight but intriguing sounds. He could hear movements around him. Voices of which he couldn’t distinguish any word. He could feel the throbbing pain taking over each one of his arteries.

One finger, two fingers, his entire hand and then one leg. Slowly he moved in his place, trying to fight to recover mobility completely, to discover where he was. All he remembered was finding a road and then everything had turned black.

 

 _"Calm down."_ A soft female voice with a foreign accent suddenly caught his attention. _"He's awake!"_ The soft voice screamed in an authoritative tone. It took him several seconds to notice that his eyes had been always fully open, trying to get used to the white blinding light. Blinking several times and shaking his head, he tried to rearrange himself into what he noticed as a bed without success, as the pain quickly paralyzed him. _"I said calm down."_ The woman spoke again, stopping him with both arms.

 

Mike blinked quickly, again. Analyzing every corner of the room where he was, attentively. That wasn’t a hospital room, however, the entire clinical equipment was there. Even the woman wore the nurse's uniform.

Looking down at his bare stomach, he noticed that most of his wounds were stitched, making it difficult for him to lean back without too much effort due to his sutures. He was curious and distrustful. How had he got there? What was it doing there?

 

 _"Mr Montgomery, you're awake"_ The transparent curtain suddenly opened, in the moment when a woman in a suit accompanied by men dressed the same, entered the room. Upon seeing the badge, the nervousness invaded his body even more. _"I know you must have many questions and believe me we will answer them."_

 _"Who the hell are you?"_ Mike asked with a snarl. The girl dressed as a nurse gave a small giggle, enjoying watching Elizabeth gasp in surprise. _"What the hell am I doing here? What the hell do you want? "_

Taking a long breath, the woman continued to speak. _"My name is Elizabeth. The S.U.C.S. has been watching you for a long time and only until now have we been able to contact you"_ Mike laughed wryly. Did they call to contact, kidnap? _"The S.U.C.S. requires your services."_

 _"I'm sorry to reject your proposal, but I'm a vegan. I don’t do pig."_ He smiled with scabies. His body slowly settled down until he was fully seated on the stretcher. He thanked still wearing his pants, he only had to find his shirt to be able to leave fully dressed. _"I don’t work for the feds."_

 

It was in vain to pretend not to feel the pain. Every corner of his body seemed to scream the moment his feet touched the ground. However, he was already standing and there was no going back. Not even if he had to support himself in order not to fall. An intense pain shook his head. The dizziness and the tears of pain made it difficult for him to see, however, he wouldn’t stop. His eyes began to look for some way out, without his body moving too fast. His heart began to beat strongly at the moment he saw the big door behind the cloudy view through the transparent curtains. Around him, there were only stunned looks, who tried to control their impulses to stop him.

 

 _"It wasn’t a proposal, you have no other choice,"_ Elizabeth spoke, in attempt to stop him. Mike shrugged, without looking back. _"But go ahead, leave. I guess you'll be glad to know we're still in Graysville..."_

His heart then stopped for a moment. He couldn’t stay in Graysville. Eventually, he would return, but not at that moment. He still had to plan his next step, his counterattack. _"I have never run away from a battle, officer. I won’t start now. I'm not afraid."_ Because even if he still couldn’t come back, he would eventually. And meanwhile, he wouldn’t sit idly by, betraying each and every one of his principles. _"Seek help elsewhere."_

 

His feet began to move on their own towards the exit. He recognized the place as one of the abandoned sheds on the outskirts of Graysville. He had heard many rumours about it, but none resembled reality. From killings, illegal dog fighting, betting and even prostitution to being the secret-not-so-secret centre of the federals.

 

Without looking back, he walked with all his might to the oldest well-known motel in town. Without almost any residents left, the dangerous neighbourhood remained abandoned by the number of rumours that had spread over time.

Staggering, and after making sure that no member of the Hellfire Club prowled around, he came almost running to the front door. It squeaked, releasing a large amount of dust when it opened. Mike looked with his eyes at Winkler, the owner of the motel. _"Mike!"_ The old man screamed when he saw the young man's condition. Running toward him, he quickly grabbed him by the shoulders and pulled him into a chair before he collapsed on the floor. _"What happened to you, mijo?"_

But before he could even mumble a word, his eyes turned white at the same time everything turned black. Again.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

When his eyes opened, he was grateful that the yellow light didn’t blind his sight. The smell of damp and cigar flooded his nostrils the moment he regained consciousness, filling him with an air of tranquillity when he realized where he was.

Winkler was at his side, an expression of concern barely noticeable among all the wrinkles on his face. Mike smiled thinly, quickly taking the bottle of water that rested on the bedside table next to the dirty bed. His throat was burning, and his head hurt as if it were being drilled.

_"You are sunburned. Dehydrated."_ The man whispered, his voice hoarse. _"What happened? You arrive here in this state. Barely clothed and covered with wounds... What happened, mijo?"_

For Mike, Winkler was like a grandfather. The father figure he had never had. The man was a wise counsellor who had spent his eternal days in that inherited motel since he was born, without leaving Graysville no matter what happened. Even if the motel had passed its golden age decades ago, the man refused to leave, just as he refused to abandon his family, his people, his roots _. "Jack and Garrett,"_ Mike muttered scornfully, referring to the Hellfires, the gang that terrorized the few residents left of the town. _"Everything has gone to shit, they're hunting us one at a time."_

And after a long silence, Winkler got up from his seat, walking towards one of his worn old wardrobes. Opening the door, he picked up the old rifle, smiling at Mike. _"Well, screw them. If they come looking for problems, they'll have to deal with my Rose."_

The young man laughed, with an expression of pain. _"Can you lend me the phone? I have to call Fitzgerald."_

The old man nodded, walking slowly out, looking for the telephone. Mike rejoined to his feet, still feeling pain. Little by little his body moved until he was standing, walking towards the door frame. There, he saw Winkler approach at a slow pace with the device in his hand. Mike believed that the wireless telephone was too new for that place, but he wouldn’t say anything about it.

Smiling gratefully, he took the phone, entering the room again. Sitting on the bed, he dialled the numbers he knew by heart. After several beeps, the line on the other side was attended, making Mike smile in relief. _"Fitzgerald, it's me. Come to Winkler’s immediately."_ And without further ado, he hung up the call. His body still gave slight tremors of nervousness.

 _"Everything will be fine, boy. We have been in worse battles."_ The man smiled with a hopeful look. Mike nodded, trying to convince himself.

 

 

They both walked towards the reception when after minutes, the door opened and the familiar voice of his friend resounded throughout the motel. Ezra Fitzgerald paled immediately when he saw Mike in front of him. Both were best friends since childhood, almost like brothers. Both were inseparable. The bond they shared was more powerful than any blood tie. Beyond any friendship.

 

 _"Be quiet!"_ Winkler ordered, in a scolding tone. Fitzgerald denied without believing that his friend was still there. With life.

 _"You’re alive! I knew it!"_ And laughing with joy, he didn’t hesitate to hug his friend tightly, not considering that he had probably finished breaking the last healthy bones in the young man's body. _"But how? Garrett has said that he saw you die."_

 _"I have more lives than a cat, buddy."_ He joked sarcastically. _"Look, we don’t have much time, but I need your help. We need to hide for a while until we can counterattack─"_

 _"Mike, there is no point"_ And at the look of confusion, Fitzgerald sighed. _“Everyone is dead. Hastings has kept me alive, but it's only a matter of time before she puts a price on my head."_

 

Everyone dead? What had Fitzgerald meant? Mike took a seat before fainting for the third time that day. The heat was unbearable and only made the headache intensify more.

What his friend was saying could not be true. Not everyone could be dead. Not everything could be lost, because that would mean that there would be nothing else to fight for and Mike didn’t know how to live a life without fighting back.

 

 _"What about the twins?"_ He asked, afraid to hear the answer he would know he would get. His eyes closed with fury, feeling like it was taking over his entire being. _"Hanna is with you?"_

But when he didn’t hear an answer, his eyes opened for an answer in Fitzgerald's empty eyes. _"I thought you were with her when she… I─_ I'm _sorry, Mike."_ He whispered in a thin voice. Mike stifled a scream, growling furiously. Standing up, he looked at the rifle that was resting on the counter; It wouldn’t have many bullets, but he didn’t need an arsenal to accomplish his mission. _"What are you doing?"_ He asked.

_"Isn’t obvious? We're not going to give up, we're going to fight for our people. Let's take revenge for the innocent blood lost."_

 

But even if Mike had planned his next moves in the last seconds, it was too late. The characteristic sound of tires skidding in the sand, the motorcycle engine slowing down and the bullets that didn’t wait to be fired. The first instinct was to jump to the floor, seeking refuge. Tossing curses from time to time, completely surprised. However, not everyone had the same reflexes from Mike, for others it had been too late. While one bullet had grazed Fitzgerald's knee, throwing him down, another had embedded itself in Winkler's forehead.

 

 _"No!"_ Mike exclaimed watching the old man fall backwards to the ground. Still, in shock, he got up from taking the rifle that lay at his side. Shooting without a specific target. Blinded by anger and pain, he didn’t stop until the few bullets lay on the ground. _"Stand up, bro!"_ He pleaded desperately, helping Fitzgerald to his feet.

 _"Go!"_ His friend asked with a cry of pain as he leaned on his injured leg on the ground. The firing ceased and the heavy steps towards the door began to rumble _. "Just leave! They can’t see you, they don’t know you're not dead."_

But Mike didn’t want to run away. He couldn’t leave his friend there, to his own fate. _"I won’t leave you, you damn asshole."_ And placing his arm around his waist, they both started walking quickly towards the back door, which opened onto the parking lot. Upon arriving, Fitzgerald got rid of the grip, throwing Mike out of the building. _"What the hell are you doing?!"_ he asked, hearing the front door slam.

 _"I'll just delay you. You still have a chance."_ And closing the door and staying inside, Mike growled trying to open it in vain. One shot and then, all noise ceased.

 

Stepping back, he put a hand to his face, squeezing it. He wanted to scream, kick in and fight until everything was over. But he knew it would be in vain. He would die without even having the satisfaction of revenge.

He knew that there was nothing else to do in that place. There was no other option at that time. All he could do was to flee and return when the opportunity to take revenge touched his door. He had to plan how to end all of them at once. He had to avenge every person he had met. To every innocent who had lost his life because of that stupid war. He had to avenge his family. And the fact that everyone believed he was dead was something in his favour.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Nightfall had come almost immediately. The heat vanished and the cold breeze coursed through the young man's bones. He had walked for hours, trying not to be seen. Thirsty and hungry. Furious and devastated.

His face was serene. The wounds of his body began to burn due to the particles of dirt that flew at them when he didn’t have something to cover his abdomen. Standing in front of the old shed, he still didn’t understand if what he was about to do was due to desperation or something else. Maybe it was stupid, but he knew he couldn’t do it alone. He needed help, and he would get it no matter what it cost.

 

Walking towards the shed and re-entering it, all eyes turned towards him. Elizabeth was the first to get up from her seat, followed by her colleagues who tried to disguise the smile of triumph. Mike walked slowly towards them, feeling every fibre of his body screaming in pain. _"I’ll help you,"_ he whispered in a deep voice. _"But I want something in return."_

 

Hours later, still analyzing every detail of the mess he’d just put himself in, his hand went to the knob of the great marble door. And without being distracted or intimidated by the big luxurious mansion, he turned the knob until the door finally opened and his body entered inside.

Surrounded by faces he had never seen in his life, one, in particular, paled immediately as he turned his face to the recently opened door. A small gasp of emotion filled with nervousness escaped from the lips of Liam Dunbar, who, still paralyzed, gradually rose from his seat.

 _"Theo?"_ The young man called, trembling. And at the perplexed looks, Mike smirked. How much would it take to sustain that farce in order to fulfil his purpose?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter two coming soon!

**Author's Note:**

> Here we are with a new story. I hope you like it.


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